


Emerald Cut

by skimmingthesurface, SylviaW1991



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Crystal Gems, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Steven Universe AU, pinescone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmingthesurface/pseuds/skimmingthesurface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots set in the universe of Steven Universe, incorporating the characters of Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall, and following the lives of Wirt, Mabel, Dipper, and Greg as they defend the planet Earth and reshape themselves to be more than just a team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crystal Gems

**Author's Note:**

> Just as the summary states, this isn't a multi-chapter fic, though each one shot does happen chronologically for the most part. We won't have a consistent update schedule for this fic, but we do hope to get these out when we can!
> 
> So, after months of teasing... ta-da~
> 
> Sorry we suck.

\----

_Diopside_

\----

 

_Defective_.

She wore it like a badge of honor, her left shoulder bared but for the strap of a tank-top to show off the gem with its constant changing of colors. She danced when there was no reason to dance. She laughed and played and enjoyed everything Earth had to offer.

_Defective_.

He hid it away in shame, his forehead covered by the bill of a hat, his gem weapon embarrassing in its simplicity and ineffectiveness. He kept quietly to himself, nose buried in the books that taught him the ways Earth had evolved over the centuries. He danced when she urged him to, laughed when he forgot to be sad, and slowly grew to love everything Earth had to offer.

Still, he carried the label with him for decades. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for things to come to this.

Bloodstone tipped his head to the side, teeth sharp daggers when he grinned. His three eyes blinked in unison, the three orbs slanted in a diagonal line right up the side of a triangular shaped gem. The middle one had been blue, but it was slowly, steadily glazing over to be as gold as the other two.

“Get back!” the human shouted, clinging to a slowly graying Mabel as he backed away. Backed dangerously close to a portal. Another human lay in the corner, unconscious, blood dripping from the corner of his lip.

Bloodstone was certain he was dead and planned to do the same to the human still standing and the gem he was supporting. He swung his ornate mace, a low chuckle spilling out, and advanced. “You think you can stop _me_? You think you can stop any of this? The world will be ours again, human, and this time we won’t be letting go!” The mace lifted high, the gem charging, and Diopside sat up abruptly, clutching his chest.

“Lights!” he gasped and they hummed to life, lighting up his bedroom. He looked around the attic space, swallowing hard. His bookshelves packed with books, his desk was still beneath the window and littered with notes and the wonders Earth technology had to offer. Naturally, he’d improved upon his three computers drastically.

He threw the blanket off of himself and rose, snatching up his ballcap and fitting it snuggly to his head to hide the gem gleaming on his brow. While he certainly didn’t need sleep by any stretch, he’d found in the past that ideas came to him in dreams. Unfortunately, memories often came as well and not all of his memories were good ones.

The murder of Stanford Pines wasn’t one he enjoyed reliving.

He wandered to his attached bath and stared at himself in the mirror while the water in his sink warmed. A young man by Earth standards, a child by Homeworld’s, the charcoal colored gem blinked bold blue eyes wearily at himself.  There were accents of blue here and there, particularly at the ends of his curls. The clothes that covered this projection of his form.

He’d been a child before his fusion with Heliodor had committed murder, attempted murder of the gem who called herself his twin and the brother of Stanford, Stanley Pines. But after, he had felt old. Older than his projection would suggest.

He splashed his face with warm water, ridding himself of the last dregs of sleep. He wished he could return to being a child sometimes. He wished he could return to the times before he had ruined the lives of the Stan twins. Perhaps even before they’d awakened him and Sapphire from their slumber.

_Pop!_

The two gems tumbled from stasis bubbles, each falling to the cold ground. Shocked awake, they sat upright and lifted their hands in preparation to defend or attack. 

“Whoa, cool!” was not the expected reaction.

“Stanley, don't touch them! We don't know what they are!”

“They look like kids.”

They did indeed, the two gems projecting the physical forms of twelve year olds. The one who felt more comfortable as a boy shifted in front of the one who felt more comfortable as a girl, his body far more tense than hers. Humans in the Kindergarten? Something wasn't right.

“Humans in the Kindergarten! That's so neat!” she chirped.

He sighed. “Sapphire, don't-”

“Hi, humans!”

“Hi!”

“Stanley!” The one with glasses grabbed his brother's arm to keep him from waving. “Don't do that!”

“But she said hi first.”

He sighed the most tortured sigh he could manage, then yelped when his glasses were removed. She blinked twice, then crossed her eyes. “How do you see through these weird things?”

“Give me back my glasses!”

“Your what?”

“Sapphire, return the weird visor.” Unimpressed and more than a little nervous, Diopside huffed. His arms folded so he could rub them, looking about cautiously. “We... we need to figure out how humans got here and-”

“Boring!” She twirled, running face-first into a post. “Ow,” sounded insincere, her giggling betraying delight.

Though he wasn't sure about doing so, Diopside took the glasses from her and cautiously approached the small humans. “Here. I don't know how you avoided the alarms and guards, but take your visor and- and go.”

“What alarms?”

“There weren't any guards.” Stanford took his glasses, cleaning them on the end of his shirt before pushing them back onto his nose.

Stanley put his hands on his hips, striking a dramatic pose. “I punched down a door!” It had been crumbling and wooden, but he'd punched through it and that was still pretty cool.

The two gems exchanged looks, Sapphire smiling slowly. Diopside looked nervous, quickly bolting for the door. “Hello?” he called. “Hello! Where are you guys?” Were they alone? Had they been left alone? “Sapphire, help me!”

She was tugging on the shorts Stanley was wearing, the blue material fascinating. “What kind of cloth are these?”

“My shorts? Uh. They're shorts.”

Stanford frowned. “They're jeans.”

“Ooh.”

“Sapphire!” Diopside shouted.

“Coming!” she sing-songed. “Do you want to help us?”

“Find other aliens? Um.” The twin boys exchanged glances.

“Yes!” Stanley agreed, his brother clapping a hand to his brow in defeat.

“Woo!”

It had been the start of what had evolved into a lasting friendship, the four of them largely inseparable. The gems had even been given human-sounding names, though Stanley’s choice of “Dipper” still gave Diopside pause. It was odd even by human standards, but not quite as dumb as Mabel, the name Stanford had given her.

Diopside missed those days, over fifty years having gone by since they'd first been awakened by curious boys who'd stumbled across an ancient factory. But things had changed, a betrayal standing between innocence and whatever he was now.

A defect.

Diopside jerked away from the mirror and left the bathroom. His clothes changed as he walked, the pajamas as much a facade as his skin. He adopted the customs of modern Earth, more accustomed to those than he was the customs of Homeworld. He would leave those to Carnelian.

He took a sword from the wall and a gun-like weapon from his nightstand, both attached to his hips before he left his room. At the bottom of the stairs, his human name was called. He looked towards the living room and the child who wanted his attention.

The twelve year old jumped up, darting over. “Hi, Dipper! You're awake!”

“Yeah. Morning, Greg.” He ruffled the boy's hair, struggling not to compare him to the twins he'd met so long ago.

“Are you going to train? Can I come?” He lifted his shirt, pointing at the emerald on his stomach. “I've been getting better! I bet I can summon my weapon this time!”

His grin flashed. “Next time, Greg. You have fun with Mabel doing... whatever you're doing.”

He sighed, but nodded. “Okay. I'm making a card for Lorna, and then we're going to the hospital to say hi.”

Even the thought of a hospital made him queasy, but he fought back a grimace. “You and Mabel have fun, then.”

“We will,” was the childish assurance, and Dipper managed a genuine smile. This boy, he wouldn't betray. He knew better, knew who he could trust and who he couldn’t. He wouldn't let Emerald down the way he had the Pines twins.

“Cool. See you later, shortstop.”

 

\----

_Carnelian_

\----

 

Carnelian never slept. 

It was a human need, a method of replenishing energy and soothing harsh emotions, and one that he did not understand the way he did eating and breathing and drinking. He could understand how putting something in one’s body fueled them with nutrients and molecules that they required to survive, but he could not understand how shutting down one’s body for hours at a time did anyone any good on a regular basis. It was like regenerating, but all the time. 

He supposed it had something to do with their short lifespans, though he no longer liked to linger on such thoughts. It was difficult not to though, when the entire house was asleep - even Diopside and Sapphire though neither of them had any need for sleep - and he was left with thoughts alone as company. Most nights it was easy enough to find something to occupy his time, poetry and music two of Earth’s pleasures that appealed to him and could spend hours losing himself in. He couldn’t recall if Homeworld had offered such pastimes, his memories of gem society more like what he imagined dreams must be like from Greg’s attempts to describe the phenomena that occurred during a human’s REM cycle. A gem’s too, apparently. The walls were thin and Diopside didn’t hide his nightmare-induced cries as well as he thought he did. Another reason Carnelian could not understand why his companions willingly put themselves in a state that would allow such vivid hauntings, though he’d never really asked, despite his curiosity. Sometimes he just didn’t know how to talk to them, so he would say nothing, though he was getting better. 

The tactic worked well enough on Diopside and Sapphire - or Dipper and Mabel as they preferred to be called, but in Carnelian’s mind they would always be Diopside and Sapphire even when he called them by their human names, just as in his mind he was still Carnelian though he’d somehow been dubbed with his own strange name. It was what everyone preferred to call him and he let them to avoid conflict. The first few years of Greg’s life had been wrought with enough conflict as it were, so he was glad to avoid it now whenever possible. It always just ended up with him backing himself into a metaphorical corner, no one on his side. After all, he wasn’t anyone’s first choice to defend. He wasn’t anyone’s first choice at all.

Carnelian slipped from the house, dark blue cloak nearly black in the night. In his hand he clutched a clarinet, his favored of Earth’s instruments, eager to find solace somewhere far from the slumbering shack. Only music could stay the torrent of thoughts that threatened to crash into him. Music and combat, though he wasn’t in the mood for the latter even as he stepped upon the nearby warp pad and transported himself to the galaxy warp. 

It wasn’t a location he particularly liked, but it offered complete solitude, no risk of his late night melodies waking anyone when no one knew of this place but he, Diopside, and Sapphire. All the warp pads were still broken, each one destroyed beyond repair. Or so he hoped. 

Carnelian lifted his gaze to take in the open expanse of stars glittering above him. He didn’t miss it. Space had been cold. 

Fingers twisting around the clarinet, he glanced around at the crumbling stone around him. He remembered breaking them, or trying to, only to be brushed aside by a flash of silver and a cruel sneer. Moissanite.

He wasn’t anyone’s first choice. 

For the first few hundred years of his existence, that particular mantra was branded into his being like any other facet of his personality, Moissanite made sure of that. As a subservient gem, useless on his own, Carnelian’s only value was in what he could give others. What he could help others become. A tool for fusion, compatible with whoever saw fit to use him. He didn’t put up a fight, sought to be polite and give gems what they needed, listen and obey. Moissanite took great pleasure in ensuring Carnelian did well to remember his place. He was no one’s first choice. Nothing he could do would ever change that and it was true. 

He wasn’t even Emerald’s.

His breath hitched and he caught sight of his reflection in one of the cracked, mirrored jewels decorating the bases of the warp pads. In the moonlight, his copper skin looked pale compared to the rest of him. His hair a dark burgundy with threads of scarlet woven in, eyes crimson and the clothes he chose for his form varying shades of dark red and navy blue, slacks dark brown in color, and the hat perched atop his head the same shade of red as his eyes.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hand to the back of his neck, watching his reflection follow suit. His fingertips brushed over the smooth, oval surface of his gem. He could never see his gem, the thought mildly unnerving. If he worried about whether or not it was damaged in any way, he had to rely on the words of others and trust that they weren’t lying to him. He’d once thought about taking on a form that might allow him to see it, but had been too self-conscious, too familiar and comfortable in the form he’d already chosen to alter it much. Aside from aging it occasionally, he did little to change his appearance whenever he had to retreat into his gem.

So far he’d managed to avoid that in the past twelve years, though he’d come close on several occasions. There were always close calls. _Take care of yourself. Promise me, Carnelian._ He couldn’t go against her final wish, each move in battle more calculated, less instinctive and more aware to keep the promise he hadn’t wanted to make when Emerald was doing the exact opposite of taking care of herself. 

She destroyed herself for love, how was that any different from him standing in the line of fire to protect those worth more than him? 

_“You are expendable!”_

He rubbed his gem harder. While nearly impossible to recall Homeworld, it was all too easy to remember - even feel - the way they’d been ripped apart and he’d been shoved to the ground, hard and unforgiving stone meeting his tailbone. Towering over him, shadowed in the cave-like temple, the silver Moissanite bared his teeth at him and growled his displeasure. 

“You cost us everything!” the gem had bellowed, colorless eyes flashing as he whipped out his poignard from the palm of his hand, brandishing it over Carnelian’s head as he cowered. 

As the blade came at him in a shallow arc, something whistled past his ear and knocked it clear from Moissanite’s grip. The knife sailed across the floor of the temple that had been destroyed by their latest mission, clattering against the cracked stone before dissipating. Panting heavily, Carnelian watched as the object that knocked the poignard away went spinning back to Emerald’s outstretched hand. A brilliant green boomerang. 

“Get up, Carnelian,” the green gem ordered, voice and gaze cold, but both were trained on Moissanite.

He scrambled to his feet, only to be shoved to his knees by a harsh grip on the back of his neck, right over his gem. “Stay down,” Moissanite hissed. 

“Moissanite.” Emerald warned dangerously, twirling her boomerang as if preparing to throw it once more. 

“He’s mine. I can do with him what I want,” he sneered. 

“He’s nothing of the sort.” She narrowed her eyes when he refused to let the other gem up, Carnelian’s head bowed as they argued. “Your treatment of him is no better than what Homeworld set out to do on this planet! What we swore to defend against! You see him and gems like him as less when that is absolutely not the case. You’re perpetuating their superiority ideals which are archaic and… and inhumane!”

“I am keeping gem culture alive. The hierarchy was in place for a reason, Emerald! Gems like him need to know their place!” His grip on Carnelian’s neck tightened and he bit back a grunt of pain. 

The boomerang increased in size. “Release him. Now.”

The sharp edge of it glistened threateningly, enough to encourage Moissanite to shove him to the floor, ultimately letting go of him. “We lost this temple thanks to him,” he scoffed. “His interference here today cost us precious resources that we no longer have access to! He needs to learn that he is useless by himself. His only use to us is his service and fusion compatibility.”

“He split from you to save my life. He _interfered_ for my sake,” Emerald replied. 

“Please. You are more than capable of defending yourself.”

“As are you, yet you see no problem in using him as a shield. Or as some sort of enhancement to your own abilities.”

Energy crackled between them, Carnelian’s gaze flicking between the two of them as he rose, shaky and hesitant. “I’m- I’m sorry, Moissanite,” he croaked out. “Maybe… maybe I can fix it?”

“ _You_? You can’t fix it.” Moissanite glared at him and he flinched under his stare. “You and that glorified stick of yours can’t fix anything.”

“And neither can you,” Emerald fired back. “What’s done is done, Moissanite. We move on.”

Move on. 

Carnelian blinked at his reflection, both hands holding to his clarinet as his brow furrowed. For once, he could sympathize with Moissanite. Sometimes moving on was more difficult than Emerald made seem. 

He shook his head, moving away from the warp pad to stand near the edge of the galaxy warp. He’d come out here to get away from his thoughts, to lose himself in music. Tucking the mouthpiece of his instrument between his lips, he looked out at the ground far below the peak he stood on, observing as it stretched on before him, past the horizon and into darkness. The music drifted from the bell, and it felt like it could travel across the whole planet, through the entire galaxy.

After an hour or so of playing and reflecting, Carnelian returned to the only working warp pad and teleported home. As he materialized on the warp pad in the woods near the house, a squeak of a gasp escaped him and he jumped back. Stumbling off the warp pad, he landed in a heap on the ground, cloak flipped over his head.

He shoved it back with a scowl. “Greg!” he hissed, wary of raising his voice at this time of night. “What are you doing out here? It’s late!”

Sitting across from the warp pad was the twelve-year-old half-human in his frog-printed pajama pants and t-shirt, knees drawn up to his chest as he waved. “You’re back early,” he commented casually, as if it was no big deal. “Usually you’re gone much longer.”

Carnelian frowned and sputtered, “What? What are you-? Usually? Do you- do you _follow_ me?”

Greg shrugged. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I can’t sleep.”

“Well, you need sleep. You know you get cranky without it.” Carnelian stood and dusted himself off. “Besides, you shouldn’t leave the house by yourself at night. Diop- Dipper and Mabel might go to check on you and be worried if they found you were missing.”

“They haven’t checked so far,” Greg pointed out.

“That’s not the point,” Carnelian sighed, holding his free hand out to the boy to help him up. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.”

“Aye-aye, Captain Wirt!” He grinned, using his arm to swing himself up.

The nickname was something he’d given up on trying to understand when the child was six, so he hardly blinked at it as the pair started back. “Why haven’t you told me that you follow me?”

“Because you’d tell me not to and probably stop going wherever you go at night to make sure I don’t follow you.” Greg rolled his eyes as if it was obvious, then lit up and beamed at him. “Where do you go? Are you doing super secret missions that Dipper and Mabel don’t know about? Or do they know about them and you’re just the only gem for the job? Or-!” he cut himself off, eyes zeroing in on Carnelian’s clarinet. “Ohhh. Are you secretly a world famous clarinetist in a huge giant orchestra playing late-night concerts around the globe?”

Carnelian snorted, lips quirking up. “No. Good guess though. Sometimes I just like to practice where it won’t bother anyone.”

“It never bothers me.”

“It might if you’re trying to sleep. Besides, you’re not the only one living in our house.”

“It doesn’t bother Dipper or Mabel either! They’ve told me.” Greg nodded, looking pretty pleased with himself. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Dipper’s said that your clarinet music helps him think. And you and I both know how much he likes thinking, so clearly that means he likes listening to you play!”

“Dipper also likes sleeping, which he would not be able to do if I started playing a concert in the middle of the living room.” Carnelian averted his gaze, face burning with embarrassment at the thought of his comrades appreciating something like his music. 

“Can I come with you sometime to listen to you play?” Greg asked, taking to hopping on one foot as he used the red-tinged gem’s arm for balance. 

Carnelian glanced down at him as they arrived at the front door, lips quirking up. “We’ll see.”

“That’s a yes.”

“It’s a ‘we’ll see.’”

They tip-toed across the living room and to the stairs - Carnelian doing it for Greg’s amusement since he could keep his footsteps exceptionally light without having to walk like a human. He helped tuck him back into his bed, lingering upon request until his eyes closed and sleep overtook him. He stayed a few hours more than necessary, observing the peace that seemed to accompany sound sleep. Greg certainly seemed at peace, still young and still without worry. Well, without too much worry. He’d been growing increasingly worried about a little friend of his lately, though Carnelian hoped that would soon resolve itself and pass.

Humans were fragile creatures though. Carnelian smoothed back Greg’s bangs, then settled at the foot of his bed to lean against the wall, gaze drawn to the world outside his bedroom window. There was a lot out there that could hurt humans, and Greg was half that. Carnelian reached for the back of his neck to rub his gem. He would gladly stand in the line of fire if it meant keeping the child Emerald had entrusted them with safe. He would take care of himself for her, yes, but he’d take care of Greg first. 

After all, Greg was her first choice.

 

\----

_Sapphire_

\----

 

She liked to think of herself as a chameleon, an interesting little lizard she'd never even heard of before her literal bubble had burst. The world was full of interesting little things she hadn't been able to see when she'd first been created. Her and her sort-of twin had barely been given enough time to understand who they were or what.

Or why they were fighting.

She didn’t like to think about that, though. She’d rather think about life after wakening. The twins had been a joy, the humans as interested in them as they were in the humans. So interested that they'd deemed it necessary to name them.

“How come you're named Sapphire?”

“It's my gem!” she'd explained, tugging down the sleeve of her sweater to show off the pink-hued faceted gem on her left shoulder. “See?”

Stanford had pursed his lips, tapping the end of his pen to them. “I thought sapphires were blue.”

“I'm different.” She'd said it proudly, beaming. “I'm a color-change sapphire. Watch!” She'd shape-shifted for the shocked boy, delighting in both his and his brother's delight when she'd become a dog that looked like the one in the cartoon they watched. First purple, then a shimmering blue right before their eyes.

“Whoa!” Stanley had shot an eager look towards Diopside, and she could still so easily see the mischief in his bright grin. “Can you do that too?”

His shoulders had rolled, gaze lifting from his book. “I can shape-shift. I can't... change colors.”

“Oh. Can we see?” Diopside had hesitated, but within seconds, he had shifted into a cat, its fur like pale charcoal, ears and paws tipped blue. “Cool!”

Stanford had written something down in his notebook, humming. “So can all gems shape-shift?”

“Yeah,” Diopside had supplied. “But Sapphire’s different.”

“Why?” they'd asked in unison.

When Diopside shrank back, Sapphire beamed. “We're both different! We're not like any other gems.”

“Sapphire, there were hundreds of us.”

“Not _exactly_ like us, Diopside!”

“So is there only one sapphire and only one diopside and- and stuff?”

“Not...” He'd grabbed the hat Stanley had given him, pulling it low. It was a green cap with a star on front, unlike anything the two gems had seen before. “Not exactly.”

Stanley had accepted the words, but Stanford’s brow had furrowed. “So... what are your names?”

“Sapphire and Diopside, silly.”

“But what about when you're with other sapphires and diopsides?” he'd pressed, Stanley now just as interested in the subject.

“Yeah!”

The gems had looked at one another, frown on one face and a hesitant smile on the other. When with other gems, their individuality didn't matter. When they were together, orders were expected to be followed by all. 

“Okay. By Earth standards, we don't have names,” Diopside had shrugged.

“We'll name you!” the twins had declared.

The idea had been an innocent one, harmless and sweet. She clung to the innocence and kept the name Stanford had deemed acceptable.

Mabel.

Old-fashioned had been Stanley's opinion, but he’d dubbed Diopside “Dipper” so neither he nor Mabel took much stock in Stanley's ability to name things. He'd always been better at punching, the action-prone boy an absolute delight. Mabel so missed the days where the four of them had run amok, thick as thieves.

They’d been a family, something the gem had never experienced as Sapphire. Sapphire had been a weapon, and a poor one. One who would rather hide away than face the fire. So many gems had shattered and cracked around her, chaos reigning supreme, while she'd sobbed for the star diopside she considered her friend and found cover wherever she could until it was time to retreat. And it was always a retreat.

The proper sapphires around her, blue and pure, had fallen one by one. Some nights she dreamt of them, the sounds of shattering gems as bad as the screams. It was why she slept so rarely, instead spending her nights knitting or reading or putting in headphones to drown out what she could hear of Dipper’s outcries when his dreams became nightmares.

Mabel really didn't understand it. She couldn’t see how he could face his choices in dreams. But he'd always been strong. Oh, he didn’t think so, but Mabel knew better. She knew better about both him and Wirt.

They faced loss better than she did.

She’d faced the mass losses in battle by shutting down.

She’d faced the sudden, violent loss of Stanford by never speaking of it.

She’d faced the loss of Emerald with a smile she hadn’t really felt. Sometimes she still didn't feel it. Sometimes at night, she wanted to climb out of bed and tiptoe to her room and whisper her nightmares so the gem could stroke her hair and murmur soothing words.

It was Mabel’s job to do that now. She’d been awakened or interrupted more than once by the child created from the loss of Emerald. She’d given up her form for the half-human, and Greg had proven to be as much burden as he was joy.

Mabel chose to focus on the joy.

It was easier to do so now than it had been at first. The first few years of having Greg instead of Emerald had been difficult ones, her fellow gem caretakers grieving in their own ways. Mabel had grown quickly out of necessity, taking little pleasure in it. She yearned for the innocent days of play she'd once enjoyed with two twin humans.

Though she liked to think she was giving Greg just that despite the missions they were often drawn away to handle. She was still a weapon. She would always be a weapon, but the fights were better now. They were protecting the planet from monsters, leftovers of the war Mabel wished she could forget, and fighting monsters was much more fun than fighting fellow gems.

Monsters didn't have loved ones. Monsters didn't experience loss. Monsters were embodiments of hate. And even if there were days where she just couldn't lift her weapon, her comrades now didn't make her feel guilty. Dipper would smile and tell her to stay with Greg. Wirt just wouldn't argue, which amounted to the same as far as she was concerned.

“Flip, flip, flip, flip!” had her glancing over her shoulder, lips curving. She hadn't heard her timer, lost in thought, but she always heard Greg. She'd trained herself over the years, especially early on when she'd been the one not sighing or frowning when his cries rang out. They'd been rare, the happy boy having been a happy baby, but that was all the more reason to pay attention. Mabel knew very well what could lay beneath a happy face.

The cheer behind her when she successfully and expertly flipped an omelet had her laughing. “Thank you, thank you. Please hold your applause.”

Her voice lowered to a mock whisper. “That really means applaud. But I can't say that and be humble.”

He laughed, the sound of it combining with his clapping when she bowed low. His omelet was flipped onto a plate and slid across the table where he sat on a high stool. “Thanks, Mabel!”

“You're welcome, baby.”

He stabbed hungrily into his lunch, but paused and lifted his gaze to her. “Are you gonna eat?”

“Oh, that's okay. I'm not very hungry.” Gems didn't need to eat, though they certainly could. Normally, Mabel made it a point to try and have at least one meal a day with the half-human who certainly did need to eat. But there were days where she just wasn't up to it. With so much running through her mind, it was certainly one of those days.

Thankfully, Greg accepted it with a smile. “Okay. After I eat, can we go see Lorna? I want to show her the card I made.”

His friend was one of the things on her mind, her smile a little smaller than normal. “Of course we can go. If she's awake, I'm sure she'll love the card.”

“Is that a rock fact?”

Aware of his gaze and of his perception, she giggled and ruffled his hair. “It's a true one.”

“Okay. Do you think Wirt and Dipper will go this time?”

“Well...” Dipper had spent the morning training and she really had no idea where Wirt had gone - to the temple, maybe? - so there was no telling if they'd show up before it was time to go. “If we see them, you can ask. It never hurts to ask.”

“Yeah!” he cheered and took a big bite of his lunch. “Yum!”

 

\----

_Greg Whelan_

\----

 

It wasn’t until he started going to school that it occurred to Gregory Whelan that his family wasn’t exactly… normal. 

At first glance it sort of seemed like it was. He had a dad and a great-uncle Stan, both very normal as far as families went - well, the uncle part, not necessarily the Stan part - but after that things got a little fuzzy and difficult to explain. He just didn’t know what exactly to call the gems. They were sort of like parents, because they helped his dad take care of him, but they were also sort of like an aunt and uncles because they couldn’t always do parent-things, and then they were kind of like older brothers and a sister, but they were a lot older than he was. Like, they were adults, and even though he knew grown-ups could be brothers and sisters, it still didn’t seem like the right name for them either. 

They were just the gems, and that was enough to make them family in Greg’s mind, though it was difficult to explain to his classmates. In the small town of Gravity Falls, many of the families were very… well, his dad had called them nuclear. Not because they blew up or anything, but it basically meant they all had moms and dads and sometimes grandparents that lived with them, but that was it. None of the kids in his class understood Greg’s family and how it worked, and his teachers had a hard time grasping it as well. 

So he didn’t talk about them much, feeling very much alone when it came to the dynamic of his home life. At least he did until sixth grade, that is. In sixth grade, everything changed. In sixth grade Greg met Lorna. 

Lorna had moved to their small town from the city. At first the class had been all a-buzz with her arrival, eager for her to regale them with tales of urban living, but though she came from a big, bustling city, Lorna was rather shy and quiet and didn’t have many stories to share since she didn’t often leave her house, her aunts overprotective.

“Well, what about your parents?” Other kids had asked. 

Lorna simply answered, “I don’t live with my parents. Just my aunts.”

Without many interesting stories to share, her fame as the new kid swelled and died quickly, no one interested in stories of her two aunts. No one, that is, except Greg. When the group of their classmates dwindled to one, Greg sidled up to her, the girl choosing to assuage her loneliness with a book during recess, too pale and too weak to join in games of dodgeball, foursquare, and kickball.

“So… you just live with your aunts?” Greg broached after a few minutes of awkwardly standing by her.

Lorna lifted her gaze, smile polite but a little strained. “Yes. They’ve taken care of me ever since I can remember. It’s… it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“That’s okay, I get it,” Greg babbled quickly, sliding onto the bench beside her with a sunny grin. “My family’s weird, too!”

Lorna’s eyes went wide for a moment, then a giggle escaped her that turned into a cough. “Most people aren’t usually happy about their families being weird,” she pointed out, but Greg was pleased to see that her smile was more amused than polite this time.

“How come?” He tilted his head, curiosity honestly shining in his eyes. “I mean, they’re a great family even though they’re weird. It doesn’t make me love them any less. They’re just… y’know, weird. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Yes, I… I suppose that’s true,” she agreed after a beat. “Who said ‘weird’ has to mean ‘bad?’”

“Exactly! Weird is weird.” Greg shrugged. “I guess it’s just tough when no one else understands it and then it can kinda feel bad, I guess.”

Lorna nodded, closing her book and leaving it to rest in her lap. “What’s your family like?” she inquired, then glanced away abruptly. “If- if you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Nope!” He beamed at her. “My family’s pretty big. There’s me and my dad and my Grunkle Stan-”

“Grunkle?” Lorna blinked, curiosity filling her tone.

“Great-uncle,” Greg clarified, and her mouth formed a little “o” of understanding. “But he’s not actually my great-uncle, I just call him that.”

Instead of being confused, Lorna just relaxed further. “My aunts aren’t really my aunts either.”

“Neat!” he laughed, kicking his feet back and forth as he leaned back. “That’s not even the really weird part about my family though. Because last but not least, there’s the gems!”

“The gems?”

“Yeah! The Crystal Gems! They always save the day. Even if you think they can’t, they always find a way. Their names are Wirt, Mabel, and Dipper! They’re kinda like parents and kinda like siblings and kinda like neither. But they’re my family and I love them.” Greg nodded to himself, happy when Lorna appeared to accept that simple reasoning.

“Your family sounds nice,” she hummed. “It must be fun having so many people in one house.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “It can get loud sometimes, but that’s the best part of having a big family. Lots of loud and lots of love! But I’m sure small families can have lots of love, too.” He hastened to amend his statement.

Lorna’s smile was understanding. “Oh, I know. My aunts love me very much. But they are busy and work a lot, so it can get lonely sometimes. Especially since I can’t go out and play much.”

“Why not?” 

“Too much exertion is bad for my health.” Lorna placed her hand over her heart. “It’s safer for me inside. The city air was also bad for me, that’s why we moved here. Doctors said fresh air might be better for me and I wouldn’t have to miss so much school.”

“Oh wow.” Greg’s eyes were wide as he soaked up the information. “Are you okay?”

His concern seemed to surprise Lorna for a beat, then her expression softened and she nodded. “Yes. I am for now, at least.”

But that didn’t last.

Even though the fresh air was good for her and she didn’t spend nearly as much time stuck in bed as she had when she’d lived in the city, she’d told him, it still couldn’t cure her alone. Winter came and with it flu season. Due to her condition, Lorna had a weak immune system that inevitably gave in to the germs classmates carried. What started as a flu became bronchitis and a month of missed school. Lorna spent many days at home where it was warm and comfortable, safe for her to recover. Greg visited her as often as he could, bringing her schoolwork that she was missing out on and to share all the gossip of the day with her and sometimes just to give her the company she sorely craved. He made her laugh, certain that laughter was the best medicine and the happier she was, the healthier she’d be. Greg didn’t really understand what was wrong with her, not until it went from bad to worse. 

When winter left and spring came, Lorna did not get better. The bronchitis was gone, but she was still weak and would leave school early because she would get tired. She had to stay in bed more and had missed so much school that she would have to retake sixth grade if she couldn’t make it up over the summer. She got even paler and weaker than Greg had thought possible, understanding a little just why Auntie Whispers and Aunt Adelaide were so adamant on keeping Lorna inside where it was safe and nothing could hurt her. It seemed like even the wind would blow her over. 

Then one night her heart stopped and she had to go to the hospital. 

From what Greg could understand when her aunts explained it to him, Lorna’s heart was too small and couldn’t always pump enough blood to get her enough oxygen and keep her strong. Even though her heart worked twice as fast as a normal heart to keep her blood moving, it still wasn’t enough. Auntie Whispers was so solemn and resigned when she told him, while Aunt Adelaide refused to leave Lorna’s side. It was like they expected that this was it. It wasn’t her first time in the hospital, but Greg couldn’t help but get the feeling that everything seemed so… final.

When he got home he sought out each member of his family and made sure to hug them. Mabel and Dipper. Wirt. Grumpy Grunkle Stan and his dad. He couldn’t imagine ever losing a single member of his weird family, and hated to think that Lorna’s might lose a vital part of hers. 

She woke up. She got better. Not well enough to leave the hospital, but well enough to have visitors. It was better than nothing, she’d told him, just grateful that he would come to visit and bring her books from the library so she wouldn’t get bored. 

“You must be the bored one,” she sighed one day during their twelfth game of checkers. “Having to stay cooped up in here with me all afternoon. You don’t have to, you know. I’ll understand if you don’t visit every day.”

“Are you kidding? I get a bunch of free pudding cups for coming to visit you. It’s totally worth it.” He flashed her a grin that made her laugh a little, only to become a series of harsh coughs. “Are you-”

“I’m fine.” She waved it off, voice strained. “I just want people to stop asking every five seconds.”

Greg hunched his shoulders. “Sorry.”

She blinked, then shook her head. “No, it’s not- it’s not you, Greg. It’s just… my aunts and my doctors. They’ve been… insufferable. They treat me like I’m going to break any second and- and I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of hospitals. I’m tired of being sick.” Lorna slumped back in her bed, checkers forgotten as she turned her gaze down to the edge of her blanket. “I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired all the time, Greg.”

He swallowed, then forced a smile. “You’ll get better. Lots of rest is what you need. And orange juice, Wirt’s always making me drink orange juice to keep me from getting sick. He worries a lot, too. Like your aunts. My whole family does. It’s part of having a weird family, right? Worrying just means that they love you a whole lot.”

Lorna lifted her gaze and looked at him carefully for a long moment before relaxing and nodding. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured. 

The look in her eyes scared him a little, haunting him long after he returned home for the night. As he ate dinner, watching Mabel flit about the kitchen and bat Dipper’s hands away from touching anything that resembled an appliance while Wirt tried to appear like he wasn’t watching them out of the corner of his eye as they bickered and Grunkle Stan complained about Mabel putting too much soy sauce in places where soy sauce didn’t belong and his dad asked about school, Greg realized just why the look in Lorna’s eyes had bothered him so. It was the same look that would linger in his family’s eyes, the one that made them look old and sad. Too old and too sad and it seemed like nothing Greg did could ever fix that.

Lorna was too young to look so old and sad, Greg decided. He didn’t want her to look like that for the rest of her life like his family would when they thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t fix them, but maybe he could fix her. And if he could fix her, maybe it would help him fix them, too. Maybe he’d bring his family to meet Lorna, maybe more visitors would help her feel better and less alone. 

Yes, Greg decided, yes he would find ways to make Lorna and his family smile and maybe not feel so broken inside. He was positive that there was a way. There had to be. Anything was possible if he set his mind to it.

The next day, Greg sat down and made her a card.


	2. Healing Powers

The lights were bright, too bright for a sleeping girl, so Diopside left them off. Instead, he tossed a little orb into the air, and it erupted into a scattering of stars that bathed the room in a warm glow. As he padded into the room, he kept his footfalls too light for human perception. It really didn't matter. The girl wasn't going to be waking up because of bright lights and stomping feet. Judging from the slow, slow beats of her heart monitor, Diopside really didn't think anything would be waking her anytime soon.

He shuddered. The sound of the monitor was bad enough. Combining it with the sickness and sensation of impending death was painful. It prickled beneath his skin, turning his stomach. He rubbed it with the same absentmindedness as he had with the others in their trek through these hallways earlier in the day.

At least this time he'd be able to do something.

He sank into the chair beside the little girl's bedside, taking one of her chilled hands in his. “Why are you here?” he wondered, not truly expecting a response. “You probably haven't hurt a soul in your entire life, yet here you are. Humans are too fragile.” His eyes closed, lost in memory for a moment. “It's not fair. It really isn't, Lorna.”

When his eyes opened again, his gem began to glow. In the dimly lit room, it shone a bold and stunning blue beneath his cap. When he lifted the article, the gem was as beautifully bright as the stars overhead and out of it shot a beam of light. It broke apart, resembling a fishing net as it covered the girl from head to toe.

“Where is it?” Diopside murmured, sitting up straight. “Oh! There. Of course. Why is it always the heart?” The net concentrated it's glow, weaving back into a single beam and seeming to pierce directly into her skin. It lifted an image with it, a 3D model of blue light in the shape of a dying human heart. Too small for her chest, far too small to supply a growing body with needed nutrients, it was shutting down and stealing the child's life away with it.

Within seconds it grew in both size and strength, the shaky beats on the monitor growing sturdier, and Diopside’s lips curved. The blue lights made another quick scan, lingering here and there to dissolve clots and encourage her blood to flow safely through her veins.

He leaned back as the light dissipated, hat returning to his head as the glow faded. “Feels a little more fair now,” he murmured, giving the small hand a squeeze. Already, the girl's skin was pinkening, a marked change from how ashen she'd appeared when he'd entered the room.

Pleased with himself, he rose and turned to grab the orb, and had to swallow a startled yelp. Eyes wide, he reached back and curled his fingers around the safety railing on the girl's bed.

“Carnelian,” he wheezed. _No_. Oh, no. Oh, no, no. He'd kept this secret his entire existence. How had he not noticed the other gem’s presence? How much had he seen? How could he possibly explain himself? Oh, no.

Wide, crimson eyes rounded further at the use of his name, having already been in awe from the display of his powers and growing only more baffled by the second. “Diopsi-” Carnelian started with a soft gasp, correcting himself mid-name. “Dipper, you-” His gaze flicked from the gray and blue-accented gem to the sleeping child and back. “You have healing powers?”

He couldn’t exactly lie about it, could he? “I'm- I- You followed me?”

Though the room was still only lit by the stars from Diopside’s orb, the color in Carnelian’s face visibly darkened. “Well, you’d… been acting strangely today and- well, I thought- I- I’m not sure what I thought. I suppose some of Greg’s curiosity is rubbing off on me,” he attempted to explain. “It- it wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

“It's- I...” His shoulders lifted and fell in a helpless move. “I just wanted to help her,” he whispered. “That's- And I hate hospitals. And... I just wanted to help.”

“Right. Yes, I… I get that now. It uh- it makes sense. Um.” Carnelian cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his cloak as he glanced between his companion and Lorna once more. “We should probably continue this conversation elsewhere, but… but you really did heal all of her? She’ll be okay?” The business-like facade he tried to maintain as the supposed “oldest” faltered, question very much tinted with a hopeful innocence, never having known a gem with healing powers before. 

Diopside swallowed, then nodded jerkily. “She- I don't know how to explain it, but her heart just felt wrong, so I just made it- Now it feels right? But we should- We should go. Right. I'm-” He took a hold of the orb, gaze falling to it. “I'm sorry.”

“Wha-” Carnelian clamped his lips shut, his hand hovering over his mouth as his voice came out a little louder than he intended, waiting a beat before making sure his words were properly hushed. “Wait, what? Why are you sorry? This- this is a good thing, Diopside- a _great_ thing,” he insisted, more confused than ever now. Gaze taking in the obviously uncomfortable, self-conscious gem, Carnelian reached out and placed his hand at the small of his back, guiding him out of Lorna’s hospital room.

He stayed quiet, head bowed as they left the hospital, mind whirling. A great thing? It was a great thing? “You’re not...” He bit his lip, sending him a sidelong look. “Why aren't you upset?”

“I don’t…” Carnelian pursed his, his hands to himself now, tucked under his cloak. “I don’t really understand why I should be. I mean… do you mean because you didn’t tell us about it? Or me, that is, I guess. Does Sapphire know? Or Greg? No, wait, I’d know if Greg knew.” 

Diopside’s laugh we a little strained. “Everyone would know if Greg did. It's-” His hands dipped into his pockets, the area thankfully deserted in the late hours. It was easier to breathe outside of the hospital, but nerves still prickled. “I was told...”

Carnelian tilted his head, waiting patiently for a beat as he turned his gaze towards him. “Told… what?”

Freak, freak, freak- “That it was... It's just another defect,” he mumbled. “That I shouldn't use it.”

“Defect-? _Wow_. I mean, yeah, it’s kind of a rare power, not a lot of gems have it, but it’s not a defect. On Homeworld it’s - or it _was_ \- really valuable. Or um… looked upon favorably. Defect. Pfft. Whoever told you that must’ve been completely bonkers.” Carnelian seemed to accept this reasoning as the only solution and nodded firmly. 

His steps faltered, eyes wide when they snapped towards him. “I- But-” It was useless in battle. It was a distraction, nothing more. He tugged on the bill of his cap, uncertain. It wasn't the only part of him that had been called defective. “So... Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” Carnelian nodded again, a little more hastily to reassure him. “I know I don’t remember much because it was so long ago, but I remember that at least. I was surrounded by enough gems here initially that I know healing powers would’ve been a huge asset. Definitely not a defect.”

Dipper stopped. He tried not to do this, wary of reaching out. His casual touches were usually reserved for Mabel and Greg. But his eyes were wide and round, fingers needing something to cling to. They curled into Carnelian’s cloak. “I was told I'd be shattered.”

That stopped him mid-step. Not the grip on his cape, that he barely reacted to when the words were what were ringing in his ears. “What-” Carnelian’s eyes were equally wide as he turned to face him, his lips parting on a horrified gasp. “ _Why_?”

“Because- because I'm _defective_. What good is a gem who'll heal before he'll fight?”

“Oh.” The shock on Carnelian’s face softened as he processed this, understanding smoothing out the lines and reflected in his eyes. “Oh… but that’s… not true.”

“It is when you're spawned in the middle of a war you don't understand and don't want to be part of, and... and you're _useless_.” He let go of Carnelian to hug himself tightly, heart aching. 

“No, hey…” Biting his lip, hand reaching behind his neck to rub uncertainly, Carnelian looked him over, as if uncovering some mystery in the night. “Diopside, whatever they said there… you can’t believe any of it. They were wrong. Everything they did during the war was wrong. Not to say our side didn’t do wrong things either, but… you’re not useless. I know I haven’t known you very long in the great scheme of things, but in all the time I have, I’ve never once thought of you as useless. Strange maybe, and different because of how you essentially grew up outside of gem society, but never useless.”

He scoffed, keeping his head bowed. “You hate that we were created in the Kindergarten as much as we do. You made that really clear.”

“Yeah, because the Kindergarten was a terrible place run by terrible people and made terrible- I _thought_ it made terrible gems. At first. But I was wrong. Just because you were made there doesn’t make you terrible. Somehow you and Mabel turned out… good. Despite all that went on there.” 

Carnelian averted his gaze, staring out at the dark street ahead of them. “Still, even if I didn’t like the circumstances behind your creation and didn’t really understand you, I didn’t think you were useless or defective. That would be hypocritical and I’d be no better than… you know, what I spent my time fighting against.” 

“But I am defective,” he mumbled.

“Defective is for things. Things that don’t work. You’re not a thing, Dipper, and for the most part you can do what any other gem can do, so you can’t be defective. You’re unique. There’s a difference.”

Diopside glanced up, biting his lip. “Not... not always. So, um... Are you going to tell Mabel and Greg?”

Carnelian flicked his gaze back to him. “Do you want them to know?”

“I don't... Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm used to no one knowing, so... Can it stay between us? At least for now?”

His eyes widened a little in surprise. “Of course. If- if that’s what you want. It’s not really my place to tell them anyway.”

Studying him for a moment, Diopside nodded. “I- Thank you, Wi- Er. Carnelian. I know you don't really- I don't know. You used to hate the name.”

“I’ve gotten used to it.” He shrugged, offering him a tentative smile. “You can call me Wirt. It’s okay.”

He shrugged. “I go between the two when I'm thinking about you, so-” Oh. “Not that I think about you often or- I mean, I- I don't know what I mean. Never mind.”

Carnelian blinked, his cheeks flooding with a vibrant red color before his lips curved into a small smile. “It’s okay, I think I know what you mean. I think about you, too.” He started walking once again, glancing over his shoulder to wait for Diopside to follow. “You can call me both. That’s fine with me. Do you- do you have a preference between yours?”

“I used to. Not so much anymore.”

“Really? What changed? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He kept his gaze averted, the answer whirling through his mind. It didn't leave his mouth, though. He'd done more than enough sharing. “Just stopped seeing a point. They're both fine.”

“Alright. Fair enough.” Carnelian quieted, attempting to focus his attention on the journey home and not so much on the interesting intricacies that made up his comrade, or how much he wanted to uncover more about him. He had learned quite enough for one night though, and accepted that Diopside was done with him for the time being. Though there was one more thing he wanted to convey. “If you ever want to… talk about tonight- or things like what happened tonight, and need someone to listen… you can come to me. If you need to. I’ll keep your secrets.”

“Why?” Dipper wondered after a moment, voice soft.

Soft enough to warrant a reason to stop again. “I guess… sometimes it’s nice to have someone to rely on. Help shoulder the burden. And… I know what it’s like not to have anyone. Or to feel like you don’t. And it… it really sucks.” Carnelian managed a small smile. “I thought you had Mabel to rely on, but in cases where you don’t… you can have me. If you want me. I mean, we’re a team, after all, right?”

“Right, yeah. We're a team, and... That goes both ways. I'll be- I can be someone you can rely on if you want.”

He almost hesitated to accept the offer, not quite believing it was being offered to begin with, but with his own words tossed back at him and the sincerity with which they were said, Carnelian found himself nodding. “Thank you, Dipper. That… that means a lot.”

There was another silent moment before Diopside bumped his hip casually to Carnelian’s, grateful that his coloring and the night they were shrouded in camouflaged the blush he could feel burning his face. “Everyone needs someone.”


End file.
